


Trickster's Daughter, or Seraphina: Part 1

by fandoms_girl



Series: Seraphina [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: POV Original Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-05
Updated: 2012-10-05
Packaged: 2017-11-15 16:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandoms_girl/pseuds/fandoms_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A college girl with strange abilities suddenly finds out the world is a whole lot stranger when she's hunted by the Winchesters and kidnapped by the King of Hell. </p><p>(Written post Season Seven, before the start of Season Eight.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trickster's Daughter, or Seraphina: Part 1

           “Stop that,” I hissed, massaging my temples. The voices in my head resolved themselves into a kind of low hum, much easier to ignore. Especially because, for some reason, there were significantly fewer of them than there once were.

            I snagged a couple of cupcakes from the ever-full container on the counter. It was much easier to hide the fact that I only ever ate sugar now that I lived on my own. Nothing else tasted right or satisfied my hunger. I chalked it up as just another one of the many…quirks I had to live with. I had made it halfway through college without incident, which was significantly more than could be said for high school. I was still amazed I hadn’t actually been expelled, but that was the past. Everything was looking up. In retrospect, I really should have been less self-confident.

***

            “Hey, Sera! How’s your boyfriend? Oh, that’s right. Which one?” I could pinpoint the exact asshat who was trying to make me angry. So, I didn’t stay in one relationship for very long. I wasn’t exactly the most touchy-feely relationship-type person, anyway. It was no one’s business but my own. I huffily munched on my eleventh candy bar of the day while contemplating revenge strategies against the student body vice president. Grinning evilly as the perfect plan fell into place, I snapped my fingers covertly under the table. Our venerable VP found the right pocket of his perfectly tailored suit pants catching the corner of a table, causing the seam to rip all the way down to his very pasty ankle as he landed face first in our professor’s beloved potted fern. My version of karma could be such a bitch.

            I’d learned at an early age that I could manipulate the reality around me to be more or less whatever I wanted it to be; it was, in fact, one of many strange things I found myself able to do. Of course, that knowledge wasn’t exactly copasetic with what the rest of the world considered to be “normal.” The blue rabbit incident and the breadstick incident still haunted my mother. She did her best, and I know I didn’t exactly make her life easier. It had just been the two of us ever since I was born; she never told me anything about my father. Which was irksome, as I couldn’t help but wonder if he had been like me. A freak of sorts. Whatever I was, there was nothing I could do but live my life. So, I acted normal. I ate my sugary meals alone, I ignored the voices in my head as best I could (which also meant pretending I couldn’t, for whatever reason, understand with fluency the language they spoke), and I only used my little abilities when I deemed it absolutely necessary.

            …I, admittedly, deemed it absolutely necessary whenever I felt like it.

            My classes passed dully by, and before I knew it, it was evening. I went to my preferred all day diner and ordered my usual mountain of pancakes.

            “I don’t know how you can eat these every day and still be a normal body weight,” my server remarked, shaking her head.

            “Fast metabolism, I suppose, Annie,” I said around the massive bite of doughy hotcake in my mouth.

            Annie rolled her eyes and walked away, leaving me to casually eavesdrop on the conversations going on around me. The usual gossip was a soothing substitute to the insanity in my mind. Well, normally. Today, I noticed two new people. Young men in their mid-twenties to early thirties by the look of them. And they were talking about impossible things. My kind of things.

            “That’s eight incidents here in the past two weeks. Not counting the rumor floating around campus that someone jinxed the student body vice president today. All of them seeming like some kind of karmic justice. What do we know that likes doing that kind of thing?” asked the one with longish hair. I would bet he stood a few inches taller than the other.

            “Well, Sammy, considering who the last Trickster we came into contact with turned out to be, it couldn’t hurt to be careful,” pronounced the other, tapping the left side of his jacket. I caught a glint of something silver and sharp-looking.

            “Dean, sometimes a Trickster’s just a Trickster, you know. Ever since you and Cas got out of Purgatory…” Sammy began. I didn’t wait to hear the rest of what he said. I slammed some cash on the counter and bolted out of the diner, feeling more than a little bit sick.

            By the time I made it back to my apartment, I was hyperventilating. Was I a Trickster? Who were those men? I fumbled with my keys, cursing as I dropped to one knee to retrieve them. Before I could stand up, though, I noticed a pair of well shined shoes out of the corner of my eye. Turning as I rose, I found myself facing yet another unfamiliar man.

            “Can I help you?” I asked, amazed that my voice sounded at all steady.

            “Oh, I daresay you can, love,” he said, his voice purring and accented.

            The last thing I remember before everything went black was his touching my shoulder.

***

            When I came to, I found myself tied to a chair inside a ring of fire. My eyes flicked quickly over the surroundings. Strange symbols were drawn all over the walls and floor of wherever I was; they hurt my eyes if I looked at any one of them for too long. I figured I was in some kind of warehouse, maybe. I pulled tentatively against the restraints, not expecting them to give way at all. They didn’t. I took a deep breath and focused. I wasn’t helpless. I could get out of this. I directed my attention to the ropes binding my legs and pictured the knots falling away, letting my legs be untied. Slowly, more slowly than it had ever worked before, I felt my legs become free. I repeated the process with my arms and hands. Once free from those restraints, I walked to the edge of the flames and tried to will them away. All I got for my exertion was a near fireball to the face. That was very, very disconcerting. I felt the same panic rising again as my nose began to bleed from my efforts.

            “I’d stop trying that, if I were you. You’re not getting out of that ring unless I let you,” said a disturbingly familiar voice. The man from the hallway at my apartment looked at me with an almost amused expression on his face. I glared at him as I dabbed at the blood on my face.

            “And why not?” I managed to hiss at him.

            “Well, because angels can’t pass through holy fire. And apparently neither can half angels. Which is a very good thing for me to know,” he said, circling me.

            My mind raced. Half angels? Was that what I was? Having what could only be described as supernatural abilities allowed me to accept a hell of a lot as being valid and real. But angels? Really?

            “And just who the hell are you?” I demanded, meeting his eyes.

            “Name’s Crowley. At the moment, I’m the King of Hell,” he returned, “And you are?”

            “Seraphina,” I said, bitingly.

            Crowley smirked. “Angels have the strangest sense of humor.”

            I didn’t acknowledge the remark. I was being held hostage by someone, or perhaps more accurately, something, claiming to be the King of Hell. I didn’t have time for witty banter. And I sure as hell didn’t want to stick around here any longer. I shut my eyes and turned away from Crowley, willing for something, anything to help me. The cool sting of metal in my right hand caused me to start. I was holding a sword, though I had no idea where it came from. With trepidation, I turned to face Crowley, holding the sword aloft. For the briefest moment, I thought I saw something like fear in his eyes.

            “Well now. Aren’t you the high and mighty sort?” he said, sarcasm dripping as he took a few steps back from the edge of the flames. “Not many of your lot can summon an angel blade inside a ring of holy fire. Who exactly is your angel parent?”

            “I have no idea. I’ve never met my father. If that’s even what he was. I don’t…” I began, a hiss of pain cutting off the rest of my words. I dropped the sword and fell to my knees, clutching my head as the voices inside rose and multiplied. All of them were yelling over each other. And it seemed like they were talking about me. “Girl.” “Angel blade.” “Speaks Enochian.” I caught bits in pieces in the language I now had a name for. Finally, they fell silent. I looked up at Crowley from the floor, noting his nervousness.

            “Wha-?” I began just as all of the windows in the room shattered. The doors flew off their hinges as an imposing-looking man walked in, wielding the same sort of sword that lay beside me and giving off waves of power. His eyes narrowed in discomfort as he took in the symbols on the walls before he turned to Crowley, who cowered against a wall.

            “You’re supposed to be dead. Lucifer killed you. And how in the hell did you get past the angel proofing?” Crowley said, obviously panicked.

            “Well, I’m back, baby. And I’m an archangel. Your little lines won’t do much more than give me a headache if I really want to be here. Now, how about you get the hell away from my daughter?” the new man snapped his fingers in the same way I did when calling on most of my powers, and the flames around me died away. I snatched up my fallen sword and advanced towards Crowley, who vanished in the blink of an eye. The man who claimed to be my father swore and rolled his eyes. Muttering a few choice insults, he then grabbed a chocolate bar from the pocket of his jeans, tossing it to me while half smiling. I caught it on reflex.

            “Uh, hi,” he said, suddenly seeming more nervous speaking to me than he had facing down Crowley.

            “Um. Hi. Thank you for that, but, uh, who are you, exactly? It’s just, you told Crowley that I was your…” I couldn’t say the word.

            “My name is Gabriel. I am, clichéd though it might sound, your father. And I’m deeply sorry this is the first time we’ve met. Should we go somewhere a bit less, dungeon-esque?” he asked me, holding out his hand.

            My father was the angel Gabriel. This was a major life adjustment.

I couldn’t speak or move for a moment as my brain tried to process everything that had happened in the past few minutes.

            “Sounds good,” I finally said, blinking rapidly and tentatively taking his hand. I then felt a massive lurch as I was transported through space. At least I was conscious for the trip this time.

            We ended up outside my usual diner, almost landing right on top of a black Chevy Impala. The two men I had heard discussing Tricksters earlier stood a few paces away, along with another man in a tan overcoat. All three of them looked shocked to see us. Or, more accurately, shocked to see Gabriel. Feeling vulnerable for about the dozenth time that night, I moved behind Gabriel. His eyes flicked between me and the three other men.

            “Did they threaten you?” he asked me, his voice accentuated by a rather large thunderclap.

            “Not directly. But those two,” I nodded towards the men I’d seen earlier, “Were planning on killing whatever was delivering karmic payback around here. And since that happened to be me…” I let the thought trail off. Something like pride flashed across his face as he turned to glare at my would-be killers.

            “Now, boys. Since, obviously, I’m back and have no plans to be murdered by my dick of a brother ever again, we need to lay down some new ground rules. Nobody gets to threaten, directly or indirectly, to in any way, shape, or form kill or otherwise damage my daughter. No matter what she does. Or else,” Gabriel delivered his threats with a dark smile as the largest bolt of lightning I’d seen in my life flashed across the once-calm night sky.

            “Daughter? Angels can have kids?” said Dean, looking like the laws of his world had been rewritten one too many times. He turned to the man in the overcoat, who, as he gave off the same kind of vibes I got from Gabriel, I figured had to be another angel, “Cas? Is he serious?”

            “She appears to be exactly what my brother says she is. She is his daughter. But half human as well,” Cas replied to Dean’s question while staring at me, unblinking. It was unnerving.

            “Yes, thank you, Castiel for once again being here to point out the obvious. You’ve been of great help. Now, if you boys will excuse us, I have a King of Hell to track down and bitchslap for kidnapping, and I think Sera wants to go home,” Gabriel stated, putting his arm around my shoulder. I had started when he said my name. I hadn’t given it to him after he introduced himself. Fatigue quieting my protesting and confused thoughts, I nodded quietly in ascension to his words, casting one last glance at the two humans and other angel as we left.

            Gabriel returned me to my apartment door. I stumbled slightly on the landing, and he steadied me. I looked at him for a moment, memorizing his face and reminding myself that he was real. That I had finally met my father.

            “I know you have questions, and I’m sorry to leave you, but there are a few things I need to take care of. I won’t leave you unprotected, though. If you need it, your sword will come to you. I think you’ll find you know how to use it. Worse comes to worse, yell my name and focus on willing yourself someplace else. I know you’ve never done it before, but your instincts should take control,” he paused, contemplating something before snapping his fingers and handing me the piece of paper he created out of thin air. “You don’t strike me as the squeamish type, so draw this on the back of your door in your blood. It should keep most things away from you. And I imagine you heal miraculously fast.”

            He smiled warmly at me, and I tentatively returned the expression as he vanished before my eyes.

            I stumbled into my apartment and grabbed a knife from the kitchen counter. Slicing my hand open barely hurt at all, and I replicated the symbol Gabriel had given me with relative ease. The cut healed almost instantly as I fell onto my couch, unable to undress, much less make it to my bed. I was asleep within moments. At least I didn’t dream.

***

            I woke up the next morning to rather insistent knocking on my door. Still half asleep, I essentially fell off of my couch and crawled to the door. Rubbing my eyes, I pulled it open and was met with an Angel Blade and a shotgun in my face. Sam and Dean shoved their way into my apartment, looking murderous. I stumbled back until I hit a wall.

            “What the hell do you want?” I demanded, noting the way the electric lights around me flickered more intensely the more anxious I became.

            “I know Gabriel threatened us with annihilation if we came near you, but there is a line. You can’t go around killing people just for the hell of it,” Dean barked at me, brandishing the sword.

            “Wait, what?” I was confused. “I’ve never killed anyone. I swear.”

            “Then you wanna explain to us how George Arken ended strung up in a tree last night with is internal organs decorating the lawn?” Dean demanded.

            My mind raced. George Arken was a trust fund brat who’d tried, rather creatively, to make my life hell a couple of months ago after I’d broken off our relationship. I’d used my own brand of creativity to make him think he’d lost all of his money and that his apartment was being haunted, for good measure. Nothing anywhere close to murder.

            “I have no idea what happened, but I promise you I had nothing to do with it. I dealt with my problems with George a while ago. After Gabriel dropped me off, I stayed here. I slept on the couch,” my tone was harsher now as I gestured to the muddled heap of blankets and pillows that littered my living room floor. “Now, would you get those things out of my face?” my voice rose, and I waved my hand, causing the weapons they were pointing at me to fly into the farthest corner of the room away from them. They were momentarily distracted, which was all I needed. I skirted around them to get to my front door.

            “Wait!” Sam called, his tone significantly less accusing than his brother’s. “We’re sorry. But, you are, erm, were our only suspect. This was not a normal murder.”

            A desperate thought struck me. “If I help you find whoever or whatever did it, will you leave me alone and never, ever come back?” I offered, still wary of them.

            “That shouldn’t be a problem,” Sam agreed. Dean merely grunted. Something seemed to occur to Sam then. “I just realized. We haven’t really introduced each other. I’m Sam Winchester, and this is my brother, Dean. We hunt…things.”

            I drew myself up to my entire five foot four inches and glared up at them, saying in my clearest voice, “My name is Seraphina St. James. I’m a junior studying chemistry and forensics. My mother is a cardiac surgeon. And, apparently, my father is the angel Gabriel. Anything else we need to discuss can wait until after I’ve had a shower and something to eat, considering it’s not even seven in the morning yet. I suppose you two can stay here, if you must.” I then turned on my heel and stalked confidently into my bedroom, shutting the door resolutely behind me. I felt I’d put on a decent show of bravado. Luckily for me that they couldn’t hear my heart trying to rip its way out of my chest.

            I tiptoed to the bathroom and turned on the shower, letting it run as I snagged my laptop from my nightstand. The sound of the water covered up the noise of my keystrokes as I researched. I learned that the children of angels and humans were called “Nephilim” and that, supposedly, we were meant to stand taller than humans. Yeah, sure. I called bullshit on most of the aspects of the myth, but it was nice to have a label to use for myself. I shut my computer and took a fast shower, not even bothering to dry my hair or put on makeup. I threw on my comfiest pair of jeans and a soft long-sleeve t-shirt, trying to shove down the small feeling of self-consciousness that was threatening to creep up on me when I remembered who was waiting for me in my living room. And that, poor first impressions though they might have made, they were both very attractive.

            “So, what do you want for breakfast? I have sugar, with side of sugar,” I pronounced as I walked in, clearly interrupting some whispered conversation the two of them were having. I caught a glimpse of Sam hastily trying to conceal a computer screen from me.

            “I’m Nephilim. And clearly whoever wrote those websites knew nothing about us,” I said, taking an educated guess. Both Sam and Dean looked slightly guilty.

            “I don’t blame you for researching me. I researched myself. Ignorance is not bliss. I should know,” I said, making myself a cup of coffee and offering some to them.

            “You haven’t got pie, do you?” Dean asked after I handed him his cup.

            “Check the third shelf from the top in the pantry or the bottom left drawer in the fridge,” I instructed him.

            As we ate, Sam and Dean told me their story. Apparently they routinely saved the world from death and destruction. I was growing to respect them just a bit more.

            “So, what’s your story?” Sam finally asked as they concluded their tale.

            “It’s not actually all that interesting. I was raised by my mother. I moved out as soon as I turned eighteen and haven’t really spoken to her since. I think the strain in our relationship comes from the fact that I’m, apparently, only half human and have done thinks like resurrect the cat and turn the school gym into an ice rink because I was bored. She refused to ever mention my father, aside from saying they only dated for a couple of weeks. My abilities always freaked her out. I’ve been trying to just live my life, until I was kidnapped and accused of murder. Oh, and I found out I’m related to a freaking angel, who’s never bothered to put in an appearance in my life before now. That about sums it up, I’d say,” I answered, trying to keep the bitter sarcasm in my voice to a minimum and refusing to look directly at them as I answered, seriously conflicting thoughts and feelings all vying for my attention.

            A tentative glance at the boys revealed sympathy, of all things, on their faces. Before the moment could turn into anything all that meaningful, however, Dean’s phone rang.

            “Hello? Cas? Yeah. Yeah. Sure. We’ll be there soon,” Dean spoke quickly. “I don’t suppose you could zap us to the warehouse district?” He asked me.

            I scoffed, “Um, considering I’ve never managed to move myself anywhere like that before, I’d say we’re driving.”

            Dean shrugged, seeming nonchalant. “It’s not a problem,” he said, “Just wondering for convenience’s sake.” He casually flipped his car keys around a finger as he walked out my front door.

            I paused to grab a coat and noticed Sam hanging back in the kitchen, giving me a strange look. Something different from the hatred and sympathy I’d seen in his eyes before when he looked at me. This was almost…yearning? He was a freak too. Of a different sort than I was, but still. I mentally shook myself. I didn’t need a new relationship. I didn’t need to be thinking about that.

            “You coming?” I asked him as I grabbed my watch and shoved my wallet and phone into my coat pocket. He blinked rapidly and nodded, exiting my apartment and moving out of the way so I could lock the door behind me.

***

            The car ride over to the warehouse district was quiet. None of us said anything as we got out of the Impala. Sam and Dean armed themselves with guns and knives, and I focused on summoning my sword. It didn’t take more than a thought for it to appear in my hand.

            “Cas?” Dean called, concern evident in his voice, “Anyone home?”

            We stood in silence for the longest few seconds of my life. Receiving no response, we began to cautiously edge our way towards the nearest building. An ear-splitting crash caused to jump and run towards the source. We found ourselves in front of a smallish building with boarded up windows. The only entrance appeared to be a pair of closed doors. Feeling theatrical, I willed my sword away as we approached, raising my hands and blasting the doors off their hinges, recalling my father’s entrance to save me the day before. Sam and Dean flanked me as we took in the scene inside. There were three angels, Gabriel, Castiel, and another I didn’t recognize, standing around the demon Crowley, who appeared to be inside one of the Devil’s Traps Sam and Dean had mentioned to me. I was confused.

            Dean spoke first. “Cas!” he almost shouted, “Why the hell didn’t you answer me when I called?”

            “I am sorry, Dean. I was otherwise occupied. Balthazar and Gabriel tend to be…overeager interrogators,” Castiel explained.

            Crowley muttered something almost inaudible about what all of the angels could go do with themselves. Gabriel snapped his fingers, and Crowley fell silent, massaging his throat. The new angel, Balthazar, was looking at me.

            “So this is your daughter, Gabriel,” his voice held, strangely enough, the same sort of purring accent as Crowley’s. He moved quickly and silently over to me to shake my hand, “I’m your uncle, Balthazar. It’s lovely to finally meet you. I would have introduced myself sooner, but your father insisted that we shouldn’t have any contact with you, just in case we made you some kind of target by association. Clearly, that didn’t make a single iota of difference. And, you know, I was dead for a while there.” His eyes flicked toward Castiel as he made his last remark. The other angel looked abashedly at the ground. I recalled the story Sam and Dean had told me earlier and took in the scene without comment.

            Gabriel shot Balthazar a look that could have easily disintegrated an armor-plated tank. Balthazar simply started coolly back, which elicited a small smile from his brother.

            “There were many, many reasons I didn’t want you near Sera. Listing them would take millions of years, just because that’s how long I’ve known you,” Gabriel hissed to Balthazar, who shrugged and winked at me before turning back towards Crowley. Clearly my new family was never boring.

            “So, why doesn’t someone enlighten me? What’s _he_ doing here and does it have anything to do with the late, reprobate George Arken?” I asked, pushing down all of my personal questions and (most of) my opinions as I nodded towards Crowley.

            “Perhaps it would be best if Seraphina heard from Crowley himself,” Castiel quietly addressed Gabriel, whose eyes narrowed as he traced a finger over his lips.

            “Mmmmm,” he muttered indistinctly, snapping his fingers.

            “Well, it’s about bloody time. You really are a massive dick, you know that Gabriel? You summon me here, demand information because some wealthy twat (who I can basically guarantee you was going to make some kind of demonic deal within the next couple of years, mind you) got himself offed in an abnormal fashion, and then you beat the shit out of me for asking your daughter a few harmless questions,” Crowley was clearly angry, but so was I. I wasn’t getting any answers, was fighting a major internal battle about my opinion of my father and new family, didn’t understand why everyone was being so evasive, and _he_ was trying to pass off kidnapping me as asking a few harmless questions?! Um, no.

            As he continued to rant, my eyes went to the Devil’s Trap. It was an Enochian variation, and the symbols seemed to move and glow as I examined it. Almost unaware that I was doing so, I started muttering in Enochian, the words flowing elegantly and speedily off my tongue. The trap gleamed, light dancing at Crowley’s feet. I kept speaking, drawing my gaze upward until I was looking the demon directly in the eyes. I was darkly delighted to find terror in his. I spoke a single, final syllable and admired the results. The trap seemed to dissolve into light, which proceeded to snake its way up to Crowley’s throat, where it formed a ring around his neck. The light faded, leaving behind a circle of Enochian markings.

            “Now,” I began as the demon pawed at his throat, “If I’ve done what I think I’ve done, and I’m fairly sure I did, you can now move around and use your abilities. However, if you attempt to leave, the binding will kill you. If you attempt to use your abilities against us, the binding will kill you. And, as an added bonus, if you attempt to lie to us while we ask you questions, the binding will happily turn you into a flaming corpse. We clear?” I put just a hint of sing-song into my voice as I explained my rules, which had somehow fallen into my mind once I’d finished the incantation.

            “You are a truly remarkably frightening creature,” Crowley said in response. It might have just been an affectation, but I thought I heard something like respect in his voice.

            “Well?” I said, standing my ground until he agreed to my terms.

            “Yes, fine. I’ll play your game. I don’t have much choice now, do I?”

            I took that as a “yes.”

            “Has no one ever thought to do that before?” I asked, taking in the reactions of everyone else in the room. “Improve the trap, I mean.”

            “Not exactly. Angels don’t really do change all that well, I’m afraid,” Gabriel explained. He, Castiel, and Balthazar all exchanged a very dark, very significant look. I muttered some kind of ascension to that remark, keeping my opinions to myself, again.

            I turned back to Crowley. “Now, why exactly were they interrogating you? What could you know that they would need to know?”

            “Well, to begin with, I suppose Daddy Dearest over here is rather miffed that I tracked you down. So, I do, in a way, understand why he summoned me to kick the shit out of me. I couldn’t care less about the sod who managed to get himself nicely mauled by something supernatural. It wasn’t demonic as far as I can tell, ergo, not my problem or in any way my responsibility. However…” Crowley let whatever he was going to say trail off as he appeared to debate how best to phrase the rest of his response.

            “We haven’t got forever, you know. Some of us have hedonistic lives we’d very much like to return to,” Balthazar drawled, looking bored.

            Crowley narrowed his eyes at Balthazar and seemed about to launch into a ranting retort, until he touched his neck and apparently thought the better of it. He returned his gaze to me.

            “However, sweetheart, the way I found you was by sniffing around for irregular patterns of magic. You’re stronger than most things have a right to be, and when you use your abilities, it leaves a mark on the environment around you. One or two marks couldn’t be traced all that easily. But you’ve been using your little tricks quite a bit more than that. I had no idea what was waiting for me at the end of that little trail, but I would be a moron if I didn’t follow where it led, if only to know if I had some bloody new adversary to contend with,” Crowley looked pointedly at me as he spoke. Something clicked a moment after he stopped.

            “You think whatever killed George is here because of me. Because you think it tracked me down like you did,” my voice had a dull quality to it.

            “Well yeah, sweetheart. That’s what we all think. Even if most of us won’t admit it outright,” Crowley shot significant looks at Gabriel and Balthazar.

            “Stop calling me ‘sweetheart,’” I growled, turning away from the demon, my mind racing. It was true; I was using my powers more and more frequently. Like once or twice a day instead of once or twice a month. “Is there any way to hide myself? To prevent things like Crowley from finding me?” I glanced over at Gabriel as I spoke.

            “Well, yes. I can eventually teach you how to use the full range of your abilities and how to keep yourself safe, but it’s not necessary now that we’re here to protect you,” Gabriel said, his words ringing like a promise.

            “Good,” I muttered, rubbing my jaw as I came to a split decision, “Then you can teach me now.”

            I did my best to ignore the surprise that flashed across everyone’s faces.

            “Are you sure? I mean, you know enough to get by, you’ll be with us, and don’t we have more pressing issues…” Gabriel started, but I cut him off.

            “Look. George is dead. There’s some unknown evil thing on my college campus, and you all think I might be the reason that it’s here. And if that’s true…” my voice faltered slightly as I continued, “If that’s true, I want to be able to fight. I want to kill whatever it is before it can hurt anyone else. This whole mess is my fault.”

            “No. It’s not. If anyone is going to be blamed for this, it should be me. I wasn’t around to teach you properly. You didn’t know or understand. For that, I am truly sorry,” Gabriel apologized to me. I merely nodded in response. He’d just voiced something that had been eating at me since I met him, and I was mentally editing my carefully crafted response to it before I voiced any thought.

            “Right then,” Balthazar began after a few moments of tense silence, “You can speak Enochian, so you’ll be able to perform all of our spells and exorcisms. Gabriel taught you the catch-all ward, which, unfortunately, won’t catch angels. The only thing that’ll do that is a ring of burning holy oil. Angel proofing keeps out lower ranked angels, like me and Cas. You and Gabe can get past it, but the longer you’re in a proofed place, the sicker you’ll feel. Healing’s pretty straightforward. I would imagine you’ve done it before,” he paused, and I nodded in agreement, “Which just leaves a couple of things. Like shielding yourself. Take the extra time to make sure, whenever you use your abilities, that you focus on being untraceable. Invisible. That way no one can find you unless you want them to. And then there’s…” his voice trailed off as he spun towards me, sword in hand. I reacted on an instinct I didn’t even know I had, dancing out of his reach and summoning my own sword.

            Balthazar caught the eyes of Cas and Gabriel, who both summoned swords and advanced on me. Sam, Dean, and Crowley wisely backed up against the walls of the warehouse, out of the way. I took a deep breath and moved.

            Sword fighting is quite a bit like dancing. I blocked and swung and skidded out of harm’s way for all I was worth, looking for an opening. I finally found it when Balthazar tried to stab me through the chest. I turned to the side and slammed the hilt of my blade down on his hand as he struck. He dropped the weapon, and I hurriedly willed it away before pressing the tip of my sword to the back of his neck.

            “Dead,” I panted. He nodded. Two opponents left.

            Gabriel was a very cautious fighter, leaving most of the grunt work and brute force to his brothers. Cas redoubled his efforts now that Balthazar had fallen. A poorly calculated swipe towards my thighs gave me an opening on him. I knocked him back and pressed the blade against his throat.

            “Dead,” I hissed. Cas calmly sat down. One opponent left.

            I faced my father, anger and pain radiating off of me as my reaction and opinion of him finally clicked into place. His earlier words, his regrets, were tearing a hole inside of me. I shouldn’t have just been meeting him now. I should have met him ages ago. He had abandoned me. Left me alone in a world where being different was so very dangerous. So very wrong. And now everything was crashing down around me. My life was going straight to hell. And dammit, I was going to make him _feel_ just some small fraction of that if I could.

            I swung my blade in a wide arc, the first offensive move I had made. Gabriel’s footing faltered virtually imperceptibly. Something new flashed through his eyes as he parried the blow, flicking my sword away with an almost lazy move of his wrist.

            “I think you’ve proved yourself now, Sera,” Gabriel said, eying me warily.

            I gave him no response. I just kept moving. He was an archangel with millions of years of experience, rigid rules, and knowledge. Some instinctual level should have been screaming at me that I couldn’t win this fight. Yet, I kept going. I threw myself into it. Nothing else mattered; nothing else even existed anymore. I was almost twenty-one years old with limited knowledge, but I knew how to adapt and change as needed. I could change my fighting style faster than Gabriel could counter it, since he was so used to fighting how he’d been trained. This simple idea fueled by pain, rage, and power allowed me to strike a blow to Gabriel that was so strong, I felt a sonic wave emit from where the swords collided. Both of us were knocked back, but I was lighter and regained my footing more easily. Before Gabriel could rise, I kicked his sword away, pointing mine at him.

            “Dead,” I was barely able to breathe before I turned away to hide the tears that had begun to fall.

            No one moved or said anything for what felt like an eternity after that.

            “Sera,” Gabriel began. I could feel him moving towards me.

            “Just don’t. Not right now. What else do I need to know?” I asked, smudging the tear streaks on my cheeks as I slowly faced my father again.

            “You need to learn how to fly,” Balthazar cut in. My eyes flicked to him in acknowledgement of this statement, then my gaze returned to my father.

            “There are two types of flight. There’s what most humans think of when they think of flight, wings flapping as you glide across the sky, and then there’s the type we usually use. It’s essentially an instantaneous form of transportation,” Gabriel explained. A sudden thought seemed to strike him as he spoke. “You do know that you have wings, right? You’ve seen them?”

            “Yes. Once,” I muttered, casting my eyes to the side as images of a nine-year-old girl falling from the top floor of a high rise luxury hotel crept into my mind. My fall had been an accident. By all rights, I should have died. But, thanks to the wings, I hadn’t. My mother refused to acknowledge that incident had ever occurred.

            For some reason, when I looked at him again, I felt like Gabriel knew exactly what I was remembering. Like he knew I had fallen off a balcony, knew my wings had snapped out and caught me moments before I would have hit the ground. It was a disconcerting feeling.

            “Right then,” Balthazar said, “We’ll show you ours if you’ll show us yours.” As he spoke, what appeared to be white shadows shaped wings behind him. Castiel followed suit, with black shadows erecting the same image behind him. Panic began to rise in my chest. My wings didn’t look quite like that. Finally, Gabriel displayed his wings. They were a ferocious storm of blue lightning and mist, which caused the power in the warehouse to flicker violently.

            Everyone in the room turned towards me, expectantly. I half closed my eyes and focused, willing my wings into existence. I could feel the weight of them as they appeared, black feathers running with blue electricity. It didn’t escape my notice that mine were much more corporeal than the others. Gabriel moved quickly to me, circling me as he examined my wings.

            “Interesting,” he muttered, “Very interesting. Your wings can exist firmly in this plane. I’d bet it has something to do with you being half human. Humanity grounds you in this dimension.”

            “Oh. Wonderful. I’m still a freak of nature, even by your standards,” I said bitterly, dismissing the wings with a thought. I didn’t like having them on display for the whole world to see.

            Gabriel seemed unsure how to respond to my remark. And no one looked overly eager to help him out. I looked down, unwilling to meet anyone’s eyes. My watch fell into my view. The hands pointed accusingly at 1:00 p.m.

            “Oh, shit. What day is it?” I asked the group.

            “It’s Saturday. Why?” Dean responded, keeping his tone even.

            “I have to get back to campus. I give tours on Saturdays. Normal tours and our famous ghost tour,” I explained.

            “Why’s your ghost tour famous?” Balthazar asked me, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

            “Well, uh, I kind of, um…” I trailed off and gestured aimlessly with my hands.

            Balthazar nodded and snickered to himself, seeming to confirm something based upon my rambling. A small smile played on Gabriel’s lips as well.

            “What? I don’t get it,” Dean said, “Someone explain.”

            “The ghost tour’s famous because Seraphina here alters reality to make it seem like her school’s really haunted. Yet again using her little tricks and making herself an easy target,” Crowley intoned. I jumped. I’d forgotten he was there. I forced myself to meet the demon’s eyes as I focused my attention on him.

            I measured my breathing, counting inhalations and exhalations for a couple of seconds. On a carefully timed exhale, I willed the trap around Crowley’s neck to disappear. His eyes widened in surprise, much to my delight. Adding to that feeling, I noted that everyone else looked confused as well. Obviously no one had noticed my using my abilities. I had learned a new trick.

            “Well, on that note, I need to go. I guess I’ll have to see you all later. I’ll let you know if anything weird happens on my ghost tour tonight,” I turned on my heel and cautiously moved, stretching my wings invisibly and throwing myself into the ether.

            Within the span of a blink of an eye, I was back in my apartment, wings making flapping sounds and sending paper flying as I landed shakily. Clearly, I needed to practice. I made a mental note that I would do it later and ran out the door to meet up with my first tour.

***

            “And, back in the 1880s, this building was the infirmary. They say you can still see the figures of those patients who passed walking by the windows,” I intoned solemnly, stepping heavily backwards to cover the sound of my finger snap. The usual gasping and twittering followed as the crowd around me pointed at the black human shaped shadows that zipped past the windows. I allowed myself a satisfied smirk as I turned my back to them.

            “And moving on…” I continued, leading the group. The next few stops on the tour went exactly as they were meant to. My abilities worked, people were pleasantly scared, the college made money. It was at the second to last stop that things took a turn.

            “Right, over here we have…” I began, stopping as something moved out of the corner of my eye. I shook my head and tried to continue, “This building was built…”

            _Thunk_.

            “What was that?” someone asked.

            “Is this part of the tour?” someone else inquired.

            _Thunk._

            “Um, I think maybe we should cut the tour short for the night,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, “If everyone will just follow me…”

            _Crash._

            The force that hit me threw me into the building I had been trying to talk about. The crowd around me screamed and gasped. Two sets of instincts were at war inside of me. One told me to run away and save myself. Get away from whatever was threatening me. The other told me to stay and fight and protect the innocent people with my life, if that’s what it took.

            Gritting my teeth, I got to my feet. My broken bones healed almost instantly as I summoned my sword. The stray thought that I should have been more careful about using magic so obviously crossed my mind, and I swiftly dismissed it.  Enochian incantations flew from my lips as I made a quick circle around my tour group. Symbols appeared where I stepped, creating a force field around the frightened people.

            “Stay inside,” I barked, trying to figure out what had attacked me and where it had gone. Unfortunately, it found me first. At least I got a look at it as it hit me this time

            The creature that attacked me had black eyes, set deep into what looked like a parody of a human face. It was twisted and grotesque, with black liquid dripping from clawed fingers. It stood erect and moved much faster than it should have been capable. I was out of my depth, and I knew it. The yet again broken bones could have told me as much. Lacking other options, I swung my sword in every direction, just trying to keep the creature away.  I felt the blade make contact with something and heard a pained shriek. I saw the creature falter and moved to seize my opportunity. I never got the chance.

            One of my tour group, a young man in his mid-twenties by the look of him, stepped out of the circle to get a better look at the creature. The moment he was outside of my defenses, the creature attacked. The man was dead before I could even think to move, with the creature gorging itself on his entrails.

            Its meal seemed to heal whatever obviously minor wound I had inflicted on it, and it slammed against me as it ran away. I fell, hitting my head on the concrete, hard.

            With my head swimming, I stumbled to my feet, willing the sword away as I moved to the young man’s side.

            “Move, move,” I muttered to the crowd. Logic was failing me. I couldn’t accept that this man was dead, and it was my fault.

            I put my hands on his wounds, feeling the healing energy in my palms. They glowed softly as I tried and tried and tried to save someone who could never, would never be saved.

            “Gabriel,” I whispered, “Gabriel. Gabriel. Gabriel.”

            My eyes were growing heavy, and the knowledge that my hands were covered with blood caused me to start to hyperventilate. I felt strong hands catch me as unconsciousness claimed me.

***

            I woke up on my couch, for the second day in a row. My head was throbbing, and all of my bones and muscles ached from trying to heal so fast. For a brief moment, I was disoriented and forgetful; the memory of the previous night hadn’t solidified, until…it did.

            Feeling nauseated, I ran to my balcony and tried to take deep breaths of the cool morning air. They came out dry sobs. Breathing fast, I eyed the railing that separated me from the ten stories of open air below. Recklessness guiding me, I took a couple steps back and launched myself over the side of the railing. I was in free fall for eight stories before my ingrained instinct took over, and my wings snapped out to catch me and land me softly on my feet.

            Shuddering sobs wracked my body as I stood barefoot on the sidewalk, thankfully having been unnoticed in my fall. A hand on my shoulder caused me to start and squirm away, whirling to face whoever had touched me. Gabriel stood before me, concern evident on his face.

            “It’s ok,” he said, “Come here. You’ll be ok.”

            Not knowing what else to do, I went to him and cried onto his shoulder. My whole life had been irrevocably changed in the past two days, and it had taken something seriously traumatic to let me feel anything other than anger and confusion. I was still plenty furious, but now I was sad, more upset than I’d ever been. Because I couldn’t save that young man. Because my life wasn’t worth more than his, yet I couldn’t be killed, at least not easily. Because, because, because.

            “You…you were the one who stopped me from falling over last night. You came when I called,” my voice was a monotone with catches as I cried.

            “Yes. Always. I’m not leaving you ever again. You are my family. I’ve spent years running away from my family. But not anymore. I’ve never really had anyone who needed me to protect them. No one’s really wanted me to, especially recently. Until you. And, believe it or not, Sera, I love you. I have always loved you. I named you, you know?” Gabriel talked to me, his usual sarcasm absent as he spoke sincerely.

            “You named me? Mom never said…” I pulled back to look him in the eye.

            “Well, I wasn’t actually there when you were born. I knew when it happened though, so I focused on having your mom think of that name. Because she was going to name you Mary Elizabeth, and that’s just a bit too…something for me,” Gabriel’s brow furrowed as he explained.

            “Oh. I never. She never. It doesn’t matter. Should we go back inside?” I asked him. Gabriel nodded and willed us back into my apartment.

            We talked for several hours after that. Mostly about me and my life. He already seemed to know a lot of the details, but he listened avidly and never interrupted. The few tidbits about his life that I gleaned from him were only procured after I begged and pleaded. It was several hours and three cakes, four pies, six bags of candy, and a half gallon of iced coffee later that we finally broached the subject of the previous night.

            “I don’t actually know where to start. Last night. It happened. And I used magic in front of a couple dozen people. And I couldn’t save…I wasn’t fast enough…I wasn’t strong enough,” everything I tried to say came out in fragments.

            “As far as any of them remember, there was an unfortunate animal attack. You were injured and, sadly, someone was mauled to death. That’s it,” Gabriel explained.

            I nodded mutely in response.

            “You did everything you could. I promise you that. Your force field was incredibly strong. And you were very brave. Never think otherwise. One of the hardest lessons angels learn is that we can’t save every innocent person,” Gabriel sounded like he spoke from too much experience.

            “I just…I don’t understand. I can face down Crowley, the King of Hell, who should scare me to death, without being afraid. But this thing. This thing was so strong. And so evil looking. At least Crowley looks mostly human,” I shuddered as I tried to explain.

            “What did this thing look like?” Gabriel asked, “And, out of curiosity what do I and the other angels, and Crowley too, look like to you?”

            “Well, you, Balthazar, and Cas are all kind of glow-y to me now. There’s this multicolored haze around all of you. I can sort of see it faintly around me too, but it’s much stronger around you three, especially you. But I can still see your vessels clearly. Crowley has a dark haze around him. And his eyes shift colors. One moment they look like normal human eyes. The next, they’re black with red irises. It’s disconcerting, but he still looks mostly human to me. The thing that attacked me last night…I think it was trying to look human. It stood like a human. But its face was all wrong. And so were its limbs and hands,” I described what I had seen and was not comforted to find Gabriel looking perplexed.

            “I’ve never seen or even heard of anything like that before,” he admitted, cracking his knuckles and staring into space as he thought.

            I gulped. Gabriel was millions of years old. If he hadn’t ever heard of what had attacked me, then what the hell was it?

            “Hmmm,” he muttered, interrupting my silent panic attack.

            “What?” I asked, daring to hope he’d thought of something.          

            “I don’t know just yet. Give me time. I need to do some research. Probably need Sam and Dean’s help too…” Gabriel rose as he spoke. I stood as well.

            “Sera, I want you to promise me something,” he said, turning to face me, a steely seriousness I hadn’t seen before now present in his eyes.

            “What?” I asked.

            “Don’t go hunting for this creature. Stay here. Go to class. I won’t tell you to try to forget what’s happened, but try to heal and put it behind you, if you can,” Gabriel said.

            “Ok,” I said numbly in response. I would try to do what he asked. Really, I would.

***

            I made it a whole week without personal incident. Balthazar and Cas stopped in a couple of times to check in on me, but I never saw my father. There were more and more bizarre deaths reported on the news every day, and the words “serial killer” were starting to be thrown around. I went to class. I kept my head down. I didn’t use my powers. It was the most invisible I’d ever been. Every night, I willed away my dreams as I fell asleep, building up a wall to protect me from my memories. No matter how anxious I got, how much I felt that I should be doing something, I kept my promise to my father. Until, exactly one week and one day since I’d last seen him, a problem showed up on my doorstep.

            A dull thud hit resonated against my apartment door as I munched on a lemon bar.

            “Coming!” I called, wondering why someone was knocking. The angels didn’t knock. They just showed up. I pulled open the door to reveal Crowley, his clothes torn, scratches bleeding profusely, and clutching one arm at an awkward angle.

            “You were the closest thing around,” he muttered, blinking rapidly and swaying on his feet.

            “Oh, for the love of fuck,” I said, rolling my eyes and helping him to a seat.

            “You owe me a new carpet. And new furniture,” I said, glaring at him.

            “Look, I know we’re not exactly on good terms, and…” Crowley made a face before continuing, “I will owe you for this, but help me. If you would be so kind.”

            “Wha-? Oh, hell no. I am NOT healing you. I don’t even know if that’ll work. Can’t demons heal on their own?” I asked.

            “Normally, yes. But not when we’re severely attacked by Leviathans. Or, in this case, a fucking Leviathan-Demon hybrid,” Crowley said, bitingly.

            I paled. Sam and Dean had told me about the Leviathans and the hell they’d raised. Both demons and Leviathans were dangerous on their own. A hybrid creature would be stronger than either species. And very, very hard to kill.

            “So that’s what attacked me. Have you spoken to Gabriel? Does he know? Do Sam and Dean?” I spat questions at Crowley as I summoned my healing energy.

            “I haven’t seen any of those twats. It’s no wonder they didn’t know what they were dealing with. It would take a demon to really see it, since it is half mine,” Crowley explained, wincing as my energy healed him. Angels were clearly not made for healing demons.

            “So, what do we do? Do you have any idea how to find it?” I asked, rubbing my hands together as Crowley composed himself.

            “Maybe. But, and I’m saying this purely out of the desire to save my own skin, we need help. One half angel and one demon are not enough firepower against this thing. We need real angels and…” Crowley looked like he’d rather bleed to death than say the next word, “Hunters.”

            I ignored the jabs at my Nephilim status. “So, where do we go?” I asked.

            “Sam and Dean’s,” Crowley hissed, distaste evident.

            I grabbed his forearm. “Lead on, then,” I said evenly.

            We landed awkwardly in the living room of Sam and Dean’s place, sending papers flying everywhere. Crowley weaved carefully through the room to a specific chair. I gave him an odd look.

            “There are Devil’s Traps everywhere in this damn place,” he explained.

            I snickered. It was obvious Crowley was here often, so maybe he wasn’t all bad, if Sam and Dean kept letting him in their house.

            “Balthazar? Is that you?” called Sam’s voice. The sound of footsteps followed.

            “Erm, no. It’s Sera and Crowley. We have some information,” I called in response, lowering my voice as Sam came into the room and looked from me to the demon with some confusion.

            “You and Crowley? What the hell?” Sam said, his tone causing Dean to come bursting in the room, gun at the ready.

            Dean lowered his weapon. “Yeah, really. What the hell?”

            “He knows what attacked me and killed all those people. It attacked him too. He came to me for help,” I explained, turning to Crowley to continue.

            “Hybrid. Bloody Demon-Leviathan hybrid. Big bastard,” Crowley remarked.

            Sam and Dean paled.

            “Cas?” Dean called, “You’re going to want to be here, like half an hour ago.”

            Castiel appeared in the blink of an eye with Balthazar in tow.

            “What’s going on Dean?” Cas asked, taking in the scene around him.

            Dean reiterated what Crowley had said. Balthazar swore profusely.

            “What the hell do we do about it?” he demanded of Crowley.

            “Well, since you asked so nicely,” Crowley began, glaring at the angel.

            Balthazar summoned his sword and moved towards the demon.

            “Stop!” I barked, throwing a hand up and freezing Balthazar where he stood, “We’ve got a much bigger problem than your dislike for each other. Crowley, could you tell us how we can find this thing so we can try to kill it? And has anyone seen Gabriel?”

            “It’s half demon. I got a lock on it when it attacked me. I can just follow that to wherever the damn thing is,” Crowley explained.

            “And no one’s seen your father for three days, Sera,” Cas said.

            I nodded in response. I would worry about Gabriel later. Right now, we needed to focus on the hybrid.

            “Can we go after it now? Just recon. Maybe try to see what hurts it. I know it can be injured. I sliced it with my sword,” I explained, pacing the room.

            Everyone else looked at each other and shrugged.

            “Why not?” said Dean, “Might as well know what we’re up against.”

***

            “What the actual fuck are we doing outside a church?” I whispered, nerves causing me to swear more than usual.

            “It’s inside. As far as I can tell, it’s the only thing inside the church,” Crowley explained.

            “Ok then. Let’s go,” said Sam, creeping carefully to get to the back door. Balthazar and Crowley followed him. Dean motioned for me and Cas to go with him, around front.

            Cas and Balthazar used the network of angels, the voices in my head, to count our entrance. We needed to time it exactly. Surprise would only work once. Once the voices reached five, Cas and I blasted the front doors off their hinges. The creature stood in the middle of the church, pews broken all around it with pages from Bibles and hymnals being tossed around in the air as it moved. It turned rapidly, taking us all in, then, it attacked.

            Dean and Sam tossed salt and Borax at it, grinning sinisterly as they heard its skin sizzle with contact at the chemicals. Balthazar was using holy water like a whip, manipulating it around the neck of the hybrid. That too seemed to hurt it. Cas slashed at it with his sword, the heavenly metal cutting deeply. Crowley was muttering quick incantations under his breath, trying to disorient it. It seemed too easy. Our assault was working, but it seemed too easy. Something was off. I whirled around, my eyes taking in everything. I saw it too late. The hybrid’s eyes were clear and merciless. It was toying with us. Letting us see that yes, it had weaknesses. But it was far stronger than our attacks could damage, let alone kill. It turned suddenly, black liquid flying from its skin and hitting all of us with enough force to knock us off our feet. I ended up in a crumpled heap with Sam and Crowley. Dean, Cas, and Balthazar were in a similar situation opposite us. We all scrambled back, trying to get out of reach of the creature, but it was too fast. Skin was cut to slivers, and bones were broken. All of us healed quickly, with me helping Sam and Crowley, and Cas and Balthazar helping Dean. We were outmatched. And none of us had the energy after healing so many times to zap ourselves to safety. We were trapped.

            Instead of growing panicked, I grew weirdly calm. This was my fault. My using my abilities recklessly had brought this creature into all of our lives because it was drawn to the magic residue in the air. People had died. More people than I wanted to think about. And it was my responsibility to make it right.

            Enochian flew from my lips, words of binding, words of trapping, words of destroying. The creature was surrounded by the same rainbow haze that was perpetually around the angels. My nose started to bleed, and I could feel vessels in my eyes popping from the effort. I was keeping it away from everyone else. It was trapped for a moment, but I had no idea how long I could keep this up. I could feel my life force draining as I threw everything I could into the spell. I needed just a bit more power. Just some help. Just, just.

            “Gabriel,” I said.

            “Gabriel,” my voice was a bit stronger.

            “DAD!” I screamed the word I’d never spoken, the word I’d yet to call my father, pain searing through me as the spell wavered slightly.

            Then, he was there, behind the hybrid, wielding some weapon I couldn’t see clearly. He stabbed it through the throat, and its eyes widened. I felt my spell shatter and reeled backwards. Bright white light began to come from the wound on the creature’s neck. It seemed like it was being torn to pieces by the light. We had won. We were safe. Yet, I could have sworn I saw Gabriel mouth the words “I’m sorry.”

            I was still looking at him when the white brightness exploded all around us, and I was thrown into nowhere and everywhere at the same time.

***To Be Continued***


End file.
